Doorsteps
by thesameguest
Summary: Set in 1x19. Stef picks up an upset Callie from "group" and deals with her daughter's ultimate weapon.


**So my Fosters spiritual guide suggested this was a missing scene (for us Stef fans, at least:-p) and I pictured this in my mind. And then she helped me a lot to make it work better...Thank you so much, ****_obssessedatopia_****!:)**

_Oh, my gosh. The kid's got _natural _puppy eyes_, Stef suddenly realized while directing her standard "I'm not impressed" glare at Callie – an evergreen classic for her children. It was already easily readable by the 16-year-old brunette who was sitting by her side in the car.

_To make up for it, she doesn't seem to be a good liar_, the blonde continued in her mind. Luckily enough, none of her kids happened to have both characteristics. Callie apparently shared Jesus' combination of them: natural puppy eyes/bad liar. It had been a long day and, as much as the unplanned 'other stuff' session with Lena had been reinvigorating, Stef just wished that everything could go on smoothly until bedtime, hoping she could have some same-level cuddles with her wife. She didn't have the energy left for arguing with any member of her brood at the moment.

Callie had slowly trotted towards the blonde cop's car, rapidly calculating her best option. She had decided to avoid a complete lie, having no lucidity enough for making up details about her evening. Visiting Donald had left her in a complete mess of contrasting feelings and she _couldn't_ possibly deal with Stef right then. Or with anybody else, for that matter.

"So you ditched group and stayed in the lobby. Doing homework. May I ask you _why_?" the older woman inquired, in her best emotionless voice, which Callie was now able to interpret more or less as "I may be getting angry, but I'm giving you a chance to let me stay assertive". Stef didn't want to put too much pressure on the girl - her week had been already complicated - but she didn't want her to think this was something she could easily get away with. _Puppy eyes don't work on me, baby_, she was also silently trying to communicate to her daughter.

Callie let out a small, guilty smile, then dropped her eyes muttering "I didn't feel like going. It's just…I wasn't feeling well. I can't explain it". That was partially true. She wouldn't have been able to explain how confused, angry and broken she was feeling at the moment.

Stef took a sigh, then continued with a serious tone: "You know group is compulsory for your probation, Callie. You have no choice about it."

"I know it is. I'm sorry" she let out in an unconvincing tone, without looking back at the blonde. Callie stared silently at the road for a while, comforted by the thought that they were not far from home. She was looking forward for the day to end, and this conversation to be over. She felt grateful to Stef for not talking for a little while, because she would not have listened to her anyway. Her mind was blocked in shifting sands in front of Donald's house.

A complete storm of feelings had attacked her when he had opened the door. He had immediately recognized her and his first words were the worst he could have chosen to ease the impact of Callie's emotions. The girl felt like she was moving in an unsettling dream and still her mind struggled to conserve lucidity. Clinging to her anger was the key, in her experience. If she was able to concentrate on being mad at Donald, she wouldn't let more dangerous feelings crack out. He looked terribly old and weak. It had nothing to do with his physical traits – although he seemed to be turning bald and grey-haired. It was about his face. He had the look of someone life had beaten hard. He looked like he had survived ten years in a desert. Callie felt the 10-year-old inside her, deeply pent-up and protected by her own quills, break into small pieces at the sight of him.

She had never been a daddy's girl but he was there, when she was still young and happy, protected by the shell of her Mom's love and care. He was part of the reassuring frame of her life. She couldn't remember Donald as a particularly involved or skilled parent; he wasn't an affectionate kind of dad, probably because he was raised in the same way. But he was a kind person. He used to tell them some funny stories or jokes. He didn't play a lot with them, but Callie liked to watch cartoons with him before going to bed, and then they would go on talking like the animal characters on TV while she was getting ready for bed. Callie knew he felt a big responsibility towards them though, which often lead him to take extra shifts. But then their world had turned upside down. Callie had struggled to keep in contact with Donald through the endless years following, trying to keep a pinch of hope for herself and Jude; a weak connection to their previous, 'normal' life. But then, when he stopped writing back, Callie had slammed a door in her mind. It all went black, and she understood that only clinging to anger would have saved her from going nuts. She started accepting that nothing, _nothing_ could bring them back to their previous life. Her Mom was gone and everything was lost. They only had to survive day by day and to grow up, until they could be on their own, the two of them.

And then he was there, in front of her. A broken, middle age man, looking at her almost with shame, trying with a few words to explain years of blackout, and Callie couldn't help feeling broken for him, too. Under her angry façade she could instantly feel all the desolation of the last 6 years, her never-ending grief for Colleen, the endless sadness of Jude, who was forgetting their early years because he was too little when their Mom died. As a young adult, she now acknowledged that Donald's life had been destroyed, too. That all of them were survivors, struck by a huge, unfair load of pain. Pain was what connected them now. And she couldn't bear this. The glimpse of Donald's life she was perceiving screamed loneliness, sadness, toughness, and it broke her heart.

Stef kept the silence while throwing concerned looks at Callie as she was driving. The girl looked upset in an indecipherable way. _She looks torn _- Stef thought, observing Callie's fingers nervously playing with the shoulder strap of her bag while also attempting - and failing - to maintain a cool façade.

After a while, the blonde broke the silence. "I know you wouldn't skip group – or class – without a reason," she proposed.

_Let's hope the reason doesn't have to do with selling drugs or secret meetings with creepy bio parents_, Stef added in her mind. " I just don't want any of us to be put in a more vulnerable position while we go through the adoption process." The older woman paused, thinking of that afternoon's discussion about Callie's friendships . She and Lena didn't want Callie to feel under an incessant trial, after all she had been through; but at the same time, they needed her to be aware of the adoption dynamics. They needed her to be onboard and to cooperate as much as possible. "Is there something you feel like talking about, honey?" Stef proposed in a slightly softer, yet inquiring tone.

Callie closed her eyes in frustration. _God, do these people ever take a pause from _communicating_ about each other's feelings?!_ Paying attention to Stef was really hard, with her head already crowded with distressing thoughts.

"No." Callie answered more abruptly than she intended, her eyes still fixed on the road. _Shit._ _I screwed it up. _Her attempt to sound cool had definitely failed. She was still desperately concentrating on keeping herself together, as she had previously been with Donald. Although the blonde was annoying her, Callie knew that she was dangerously close to bursting into tears, and she didn't want it to happen. She would have eagerly used Stef holding her, but breaking down again was not an option she could pick. She would have to explain, and she couldn't. She. Had. To. Keep. Control.

Noting the silence, she edged a look, and from the expression on Stef's face she knew had to pull back, suddenly feeling mortified for snapping. "Look, I know it was wrong and I said I'm sorry." She picked up, her tone notably calmer but still vulnerable. It eventually turned to pleading as the silence continued. "Can't you just ground me or something like that and we just stop dealing with this now?"

The blonde sighed deeply and counted up to ten (Lena's trademark technique), taking a few seconds to think of a non-threatening reply. Callie was an amazing, yet challenging child in so many ways. She had irreversibly wormed up her way into the blonde's heart, but the road was still uphill. Now that the girl – thankfully – was settling into their household, Stef's problem was to find a balance between her wish to make this troubled kid feel protected and happy, and the need to be stern to her when necessary – which was nothing but another way to prove her love and to be fair to her. Truth be told, most of the time, Callie was much more level-headed and quieter than her other older children, but behaving quietly didn't necessarily mean the girl was really peaceful – or easy to handle, for that matter, so they were always hoping she would feel confident enough to display more of her feelings. One way or another.

The blonde slowed down and smoothly stopped the car; they were not far from home, close to a nearby playground. She breathed deeply as she saw the slightest eye-roll from the girl by her side. "If you don't feel like talking now, that's cool" she explained in the tired, annoyed version of her typical angry whisper. "We're not going to ground you for ditching group tonight, although it is your _duty_ to attend it." she emphasized "I gotta tell you though, I don't like this sort of attitude. I don't want us to take the wrong path, Callie."

The brunette grimaced and let out a small, nervous moan as she slightly nodded. Stef softened again her voice, hoping her message had reached Callie, wherever her mind was wandering. "We're in the same team, bug. I mean – you don't need to defend yourself from Lena and me. You know that, yes?".

The brunette nodded again, this time briefly meeting the blonde's eyes, which were trying to read through her as usual.

"Is this about your Dad?" Stef proposed.

Callie fleetingly considered the option of telling her foster mom the truth about Donald before rejecting the idea almost immediately. Stef would get angry, both her and Lena would look sad and disappointed and then –possibly worse – they would try to _talk_ about it to death. It kind of hurt her not to be 100% loyal to her foster parents, who were showing to be actually on her side, but there was no other way. Besides, they already had their hands full with every kind of issue lately – they didn't need _this_, too. _She_ was going to manage things for Jude and herself.

The girl gained her residual energy to mutter an answer, knowing that keeping her mouth shut would have meant digging her own grave. As much as she was fond of Stef, she knew the cop could be annoyingly rigid in her stubbornness. Brandon had explained to her that his Mom's tactic was basically to rapidly wear out and discourage her adversary. That or to petrify them with a glare; it depended on the seriousness of the situation.

"No, it's not...it's not about him." she managed to produce a small, embarrassed smile. "And that's right. The same team thing. I mean, I know...I'm just kind of…tired, you know. I'm sorry" Callie offered in a small voice, hoping it would divert from her evasive answer to the previous question.

The girl locked gazes with the woman for a few seconds. _Puppy eyes again. Big, trusting puppy eyes_, Stef noticed in her mind with mixed affection and exasperation. _Can we please call a ceasefire now, Stef? Pretty please_? Callie tried silently to transmit, then she began staring outside again and the blonde started the engine, acknowledging with growing frustration that she wasn't going to obtain more information. She stroked one of Callie's hands for a few seconds as a signal of not-belligerence.

Mixed, harsh feelings still were running around in the girl's head. Anger was the one prevailing in that moment. She was mad at Donald for leading her to re-open the Pandora's box of her past. For putting her in this confused position. She didn't want to be forced to choose to give up all that she had found; she was feeling supported and loved for the first time in years, not to mention she had inherited a real tribe of siblings and grandparents. And yet she couldn't leave Donald like that, cut that painful but unsuppressible bond now that he wanted to be back in their lives; but those damn six years felt like sixty and she couldn't imagine living with him as well. She wanted the Fosters too much.

_At least she looks a little calmer now_, Stef reflected a few minutes later, while approaching their road. _This was out of character for her – she must be distressed about her father. Baby girl. Lena would know exactly what to say. Maybe Callie would have opened up a little more with her. Maybe Zen Mama vs Bad Cop Mom is the key, _she thought with a hint of sadness for not being able to connect with her daughter this time.

Callie jumped out of the car and walked slowly along the pathway to the house. She was so emotionally exhausted that she was starting to feel weirdly calm now. She could feel Stef's silent presence behind her and she welcomed again the wave of comforting warmth she normally felt around her apparently tough foster mom. The blonde had looked pretty pissed during the rest of the car ride, but a flicker of hope made the teenager go for broke and turn back. "Is there any chance you don't tell Lena right now…so that we can talk about it tomorrow instead?" she let out with a smirking, cheeky smile.

_Some sass from this kid! Thank God, at last! _Stef jigged about in her mind, as she promptly placed a pat on Callie's backside, turning her back towards the door again and making an effort to keep on her best "not impressed" look: "No way, my friend. Come on. Scoot".

Callie chuckled quietly in defeat and entered the house. The day was not over and she still needed to talk to Jude, but for better or for worse, she was out of shifting sands. And she was home.


End file.
